Crossing the Line
by LunaChi KuroShihone
Summary: In which Merlin, Artoria, Shirou and Bedivere are summoned into Chaldea, meet old and new faces, and Merlin mistakes the calming draught with a love potion. Consequences ensue. / Or: Artoria, Shirou and Bedivere learn what love means. Somewhat. Crackfic, read at your own risk


It was common knowledge in the lands of Avalon and beyond, that, amongst all of the Knights of the Round, Merlin the Wizard was the most prone to stupid and idiotic pranks. It really should not surprise anyone, however, as he was the son of an incubus and thus, inherited the natural need to harvest energy.

Said energy being the positive emotions people felt, most of all that one emotion we think not much about but which was in truth more complex than most others.

Love.

The Magus of Flowers was, you could say, enamored with love; he needed it, or his strength would fade. Thus he sought the company of people offering the emotion, and tried to stay away from negatives.

Which included a former war-torn Britain, much to his eternal shame.

The pranks were often an outlet for the childish man, a way of not only getting rid of excessive energy, but of causing laughter and fun amongst the people.

Because if there was one thing Merlin hated, then it was tension between friends (and lovers).

(…of course, it would be a lie to say that he didn't find a particular enjoyment in causing mayhem.)

This time was no such time, however.

Merlin frowned slightly, looking around his room for a sleeping potion. He and some others were currently in some facility called Chaldea -a last stand of humanity, which was at the brink of extinction- trying to save what was left of fractured timelines and realities.

To do so, the single Master and the staff summoned Servants from those timelines, to ask for their aid.

Amongst those was a girl who was called Mashu; a Demi-Servant of the Shielder class - who was fused with Galahad, something Merlin was _sure_ to remind the violet-haired knight once they were back in Avalon; summons were strange sometimes - had looked surprised upon seeing him, muttering something about time-distortion and help and Fou, and Merlin, while going off a tangent, interpreted it as a parallel self trying to help.

Not that far fetched, considering multiple Artorias were running around, some more divine than the others.

(He, Artoria, Shirou and Bedivere were summoned when the Master of Shielder tried summoning another Bedivere, from the last Singularity, to no avail. He got them instead. Poor him.)

Merlin saw a glimpse of green in his peripheral vision and grinned.

Artoria was stressed out more often than not lately, thanks to some of the more … _colorful_ Servants around, and slipping her a calming draught was his way of showing he cared, while having fun with as well.

* * *

Artoria Pendragon sighed, massaging her forehead in sheer exasperation.

Lookalikes and parallel selves were one thing, but this… _this_ , divine entity or what ever, and her dark counterpart were on a completely different scale. Not only was the woman even worse off with the whole 'emotions', she -or at least, the Singularity she came from- even went down a path that was something Artoria would probably do herself, push come to shove, had she not died when she did.

Not to forget some other… _assets_ she and Lancer Alter had, which Artoria was lacking.

Quite obviously.

And even if it had no logical reason, she was envious. Only a _tiny itsy bitsy little bit_ , but jealous nonetheless.

As for the other matter…

"There there," Bedivere glanced at her, smiling sheepishly, "it is not that bad, sire."

She shot him a deadpan look.

"It will end in a disaster, Bedivere, and you know it."

Thus was her second cause of distress.  
The King glanced at the little flyer advertising a 'King's Night' on the billboard, with a doodle of a certain red-haired Rider.

Her eye twitched.

They were on their first week in Chaldea, hitting the eighth day mark in the morrow, and Iskander had decided to hold the Feast for the Kings once again, after he saw her amongst the new Servants.

He mocked her by inviting Lancer Alter and Lancer (or, Lancer Alter and Goddess Rhon, as most called them), the other other two versions of her not being able to participate since they were in a time-distortion, gathering supplies.

Artoria dreaded talking to the latter especially; but the King of Conquerors was quite high on her list, because the man did not respect her at all, which grated onto her nerves.

* * *

Bedivere glanced at her as she went back to her room, sighing and fiddling with a strand of hair. It seemed that whatever their encounter, Iskander took his Lieges word for granted.

He walked along the spacious hallway, occasionally glancing around, making sure to not get lost. He had to get Shirou, to see if the redhead had any good idea on how to diffuse the situation before it even begun.

A few days after arriving, a rather large body of Servants seemed to either be indifferent or hold a grudge against Artoria (well, their version of her) because of the whole Lion King fiasco. Which was highly illogical, considering that it was the _other_ version of her who did it.

—He'd managed to get the details from Mashu, as she seemed quite happy to have him around, even if he never remembered her. The other Knights summoned from that Singularity -Lancelot, Gawain and Tristan- also added bits and pieces of information, but in the end it was Dr. Roman and da Vinci who clued their confused group in.

Suddenly coming to a halt, Bedivere noticed that he was in a very peculiar situation: he was lost. Waiting around for a few minutes, he was about to turn around when someone approached him from the connecting hallway.

"Bedivere," Artoria Pendragon, better known amongst the heroic spirits as either Goddess Rhon or Lion King, looked surprised at her not-quite-knight.

"Sire." Nodding into her direction politely, Bedivere took a step back.

The Lion King raised her eyebrow, looking quizzically at him.  
Then a small smile blossomed on her face and she suppressed a chuckle.

Bedivere gave a confused hum. "Is something the matter?"

Shaking her head slowly, Artoria took a step towards him.

"No; I comment on your loyalty to me that you would even greet _*me*_ with such formality."

"Well," green eyes turned grey for an instant, "I do not know how the others would see it, but even if you are a different King Arthur, you still are my Liege." His voice turned soft, "I would never disrespect you or abandon you, no matter what circumstances."

A warm hand touched his cheek, and he stopped talking, looking wide-eyed at the woman in front of him.

"Thank you," her voice was light, "for believing in me and for seeing past _this_ -" she glanced down at herself, "-as not many do. You would not _believe_ how many never look past them," her voice was flat, but softened again, "but I am changing the topic. Thank you for always being besides me, Bedivere. I am happy about the outcome of the Singularity, despite the sacrifices made. Thank you for always believing in what you thought was the right thing to do, and in never losing faith in myself, even as you opposed me."

Her fingers trailed down his chin, tilting it until their gazes met.

She spoke another thing; a remark of the direction of the kitchen, after which she left, leaving a stunned knight in the middle of the hallway, cheeks burning.

* * *

Shirou was smiling thinly at Archer, both of them assigned kitchen duty. The red-clad Counter Guardian scowled at him while handling the souffle to one of the Casters, his kitchen-help Tamamo.

They'd been at each other's throats the second they saw the other, and Shirou was nearing his last shred of sanity at his counterparts smug look.

"Archer, if you could—"

He was, however interrupted by Bedivere, who stumbled into the kitchen, a dazed look in his eyes.  
Shirou switched his attention.

"…Bedivere…? Are you alright?"

The blonde man snapped out of his daze, blushing a fair shade of red as he did so, before he eyed Shirou.

"There you are!" Archer could be heard scoffing, "a… problem has arisen. Concerning the King of Conquerors, amongst others."

Shirou raised his eyebrow, bowl forgotten. There was an almost electric tension between Saber and the Rider, so this was nothing new.

Still… "What kind of problem?"

Archer choose to enter the conversation. "A Feast for the Kings, this evening. There was a flyer on the billboard."

The world stilled to a halt. There was only one thing in Shirou's mind.

 _'I hope Mashu-san knows how to use Lord Camelot.'_

* * *

The next morning came slowly and with a strange fogginess for Bedivere, as he fluttered his eyes open.  
It didn't exactly work, though, so he groaned, shut them again and rolled over, massaging his head.

It seemed that he had a drink more than what his tolerance was accustomed to. The last thing he remembered was the end of the Feast (which almost all of the Servants attended, much to some individuals' annoyance) and… that's it.

Once again trying to open his eyes, now with the sudden foreboding that something has to have happened, because his memory shouldn't be that blank, the knight noticed warmth to his right.

A very vivid image of _blonde hair and green eyes_ assaulted him, together with the memory of a _hot breath against his mouth_ , and Bedivere's eyes opened in an instant.

…this was not his room.

The knight gulped, before his field of vision crept down.

Sleeping blissfully next to him was Artoria Pendragon- _his_ Artoria Pendragon- with a content smile.

Bedivere's brain stilled to a halt, and he willed himself to not hyperventilate. This could have a logical conclusion, it didn't mean any—

The covers shifted, exposing bare flesh, and the knight knew that there really was nothing to deny.  
He did try very hard to look away, but it was mesmerizing, how soft her skin looked, and a small shiver traveled up his spine.

Then he heard a strange noise, and he looked further to his right.

A feeling of dread washed over him.

Bedivere was about to move, but a frantic look of the third person in the surprisingly spacious bed stilled him.

There was an awkward silence.

* * *

Shirou awoke with a hangover like no other, despite knowing that he didn't drink anything.

Glancing at the ceiling, he deducted that it most definitely was not his room, but a sideward look told him it was Saber's, so there was no need to worry.

Yet.

Squinting his eyes in concentration, the archer tried very hard to remember what happened.

He had gone to fetch Saber some water from the kitchen after the nerve-racking experience of the Feast. Probably… or was it someone else? The memory eluded him.

After that…

Shirou had no clue.

Shifting his attention to the sleeping blonde, he was about to wake her up to ask if she remembered more than him, but stopped.

His eye twitched slightly.

A third person was trying his best to wake up, but Shirou tried his very best not to think about that fact.

Instead, he looked at Saber's sleeping face and how _peaceful_ she looked and how _content_ she seemed and back to the knight, who was frozen in shock.

 _Ahhrrrg, he was thinking about it!_

Bedivere made to leave, and Shirou shot him a glare. If they moved now, it would end in their middle woman awakening; something he didn't feel ready to deal with.

 _In ever_.

There was a silent round of communication (and Shirou was somewhat content that as long as they didn't talk about it, they seemed to get along for now, even if that might be only due to their survival instincts and Bedivere's very apparent fear), until he felt a shift.

Both looked down alarmed, as Saber begun waking up.

' _Crap_.'

* * *

Artoria had a migraine, she noticed, as the cloudiness of sleep left her.

Which was to be expected when dealing with Rider or Archer. What surprised her more was her apparent gap in recollections from after the Feast. Sitting up, covers falling heedlessly into her lap, she tried to think.

It was rather cool, though.  
Glancing down, she noticed that she fell asleep naked. Strange but not uncommon, so there was no need to worry.

Tapping her chin in thought, the blonde tried to remember anything past Bedivere getting them something to drink.

It didn't bring up anything, so she tried a different method.

She noticed earlier that she felt sore all over (the good kind, mind you), and—

 _she leaned down on him, golden eyes glanced into her direction, and a moan escaped her lips-_

Artoria blushed. Glancing to her right, she saw Shirou staring at her. She was about to say something when she noticed his frantic look, and her brow furrowed.

Why was he looking so… frazzled?

"Is… everything all right, Shirou?"

He snapped out of his daze, nodding mutely, hesitantly.

Her suspicion grew. She was about to question him, when another memory flashed by; this time of _green eyes and a shy smile-_

Artoria turned around, very slowly. As in, as slowly as humanely possible.

Bedivere was pressed against the wall, and he somehow managed to look small and vulnerable despite his actual height, looking very shaky and scared.

She took a deep breath.

"Bedivere…?"

He squeaked.

Her gaze turned to Shirou again, who had a carefully orchestrated blank look.

Suddenly, it was way too hot in the room for her comfort. "…um," her brain tried desperately to come up with some explanation as to why exactly she was currently lying in bed with not only her Dear Heart but with _her Knight_ as well. "…uh," It came up short.

"Err…" very short. She tried being angry at Bedivere, but he looked like a kicked puppy, so she didn't even have the energy to be truly scandalized at him or herself.

And Shirou was silent as well, so she did the only thing feasible.

She directed her anger at the only person capable of orchestrating this. "That good for nothing…"

She threw the covers off of her completely, marching for the door with a silent growl, ignoring the surprised stammer of her Knight or Shirou's confused expression.

 _She would find the useless wizard!_  
Materializing her clothing, Artoria stormed out of the room.

* * *

Merlin was sipping at his tea silently, a content expression on his face. Fou was curled around his feet, Mashu was sitting next to him with her own tea, and Saber-Lancelot and Archer-Tristan were around as well. Da Vinci and Doctor Romani had joined them a few minutes earlier, the latter with a coffee in hand.

Lancer-Diarmuid and Cuchulain were around as well, and Rider-Iskander was entering as of this moment.

The two knights and the green Lancer were in a rather deep discussion about chivalry, to which Merlin listened, half-hearted.

"It was a good Feast, I say." Rider grinned. The blue Lancer nodded.

"Uh," Mashu smiled uneasily. She wasn't too sure about that.

Rider looked around. "What were you talking about?"

Merlin smiled sharply. "Nothing that concerns you, Rider."

The sudden tension was palpable, and Tristan, Lancelot and Diarmuid reentered the discussion, the former two frowning slightly.

Rider shrugged. "I'm surprised that the little girl actually has so many followers despite the harebrained wish." His gaze swept over the not-quite-knights, "But then again, you are as foolish as her in that regard, following along."

Tristan flinched slightly, and Lancelot's look darkened, and Merlin was promptly reminded that these were not their Knights, but other versions. Versions that have been influenced by their past wars and the Singularity of the Lion King.

The Lancers sensed the tension, and the green-clad hero excused himself and left.

The dog stayed for a moment, before he decided to not try his luck and followed his Irish brother.

Merlin glared at the Rider, who was making himself coffee, and was about to say something when he heard a silent growl from the direction the Lancers left.

 _"Is Merlin in there, Lancer?"_

 _"Yes…is everything-"_

 _"Everything is fine, thank you."_

Why was her voice so… hard?

Artoria entered the kitchen and had the sweetest, most purest smile he's ever seen her wear.

It made him terrified like never before.

Nothing of his internal turmoil could ve seen, however, as he asked, "How was your morning, sire?"

She snorted. "This is your fault. And I swear to God, if I -"

"Whoa, wait!" Merlin held up his hands, "I don't understand why, exactly, you are this angry. I didn't do anything harmful!" _This time_ , he mentally added.

Artoria was gripping the cup Mashu handed so tightly that it had gotten cracks.

She took a calming breath. "Merlin," she begun, "what kind of potion did you make -or charm or whatever. And be honest with me, or else." her glare was frightening, and Merlin could feel Mashu inching towards Romani and da Vinci, intent on protecting them from harm. The knights and Rider watched, intently.

"You said it was only a _sleeping potion_!" Romani hissed, and Artoria's head whipped into his direction, pupils slitted and dangerously close to being golden.

"Sleeping potion?"

Merlin choose to interfere, because the doctor looked mighty scared. "A calming draught for your nerves, because these last days you've been stressed out- it should have rejuvenated you."

Artoria blinked, sighing. This was the point where she would realize that he meant no harm and begrudgingly thank him.

Only it didn't come. "…" she glared into the direction of the others, and one by one, Tristan, Lancelot and even Fou left. Rider was grinning broadly, finding the whole situation funny, as did da Vinci, and neither Mashu nor Romani dared to move.

She paid them no mind. "Why were Shirou and Bedivere affected as well? And why do I not remember the happenings of the night!?"

"…they must have drunk from it as well, but like I said; it was a sleeping potion, so no _w—_ " Merlin stopped mid-sentence as he understood what Artoria was hinting at.

How Mashu had asked him why neither of them left the room in the night after they escorted the fuming Artoria. He thought that they might have taken a sip from the potion as well (actually, that was his plan all along, and the answer to the Shielder's question), but if that was the case Artoria wouldn't be this angry. And the potion didn't include any short term memory loss.

Merlin blinked owlishly.  
"…uh."

His short answer seemed to confuse the raging blonde, as she managed to calm down, eyes turning green again.

"'Uh'? Is that all you have to say?"

Well, not really, but it was the safest bet. Suddenly, he jumped down from his chair, walked over to a specific cupboard and started rummaging through the labels, until he found what he was looking for.

Mashu tried her hardest not to flinch at the sound of glass smashing against each other, but failed.

Artoria glared at him, impatiently.

The Magus of Flowers showed her the bottle.

"There, sleeping potion." It was clearly labeled as such. Merlin continued, "I added a sliver of the calming draught—"

Reaching inside his pocket, a feeling of dread begun to settle in his stomach. If the potion was the right one, then the draught was the wrong one. He looked at the little bottle in his hand, containing a purple substance.

 _Well, this really wasn't the calming draught. Oops._

"What is this, then?"

He grimaced. He must have spoken his thoughts. Eyeing the bottle, realization dawned on him; it was a modified version of the aphrodisiac he used on Artoria on her wedding night.

He told her as such, and her expression darkened. However…

"For an individual to act upon this, one's feelings have to be aligned as well. You could say that it helps people act on their innermost desires, in a way. Or at least amplify them."

Merlin raised his eyebrow at the King's sudden blush.

" _What_?"

He continued, "The memory loss is short term, so you should have them back by tomorrow."

Artoria opened her mouth, and closed it.  
She opened it again. And closed it once more.

Turning on her heels, she left, muttering something about a shower to calm her nerves.

There was a short silence, until Romani broke it.

"I thought it was a calming draught! That's why I allowed it!"

Merlin flinched at Rider's cackle. "…I thought so too, believe me. This actually wasn't supposed to happen, for once."

He frowned.

"Uhm," Mashu looked lost, "do I want to know what the potion did?"

Da Vinci smirked. "What Kiyohime wants to do to her Master. It's along the lines of sharing him with you."

Mashu blushed vividly.

* * *

Bedivere and Shirou stared at the entrance to the room, neither daring to move.

After a good few minutes, the redhead sighed.  
"Well… yeah."

Bedivere flinched, ashamed. "I am… terribly sorry, Shirou."

Shirou grunted, eyes sweeping around the room.

It was a mess; clothes and trinkets laying around everywhere, the wardrobe halfway on the ground, the chairs all toppled over, and was that Excalibur _under a pile of plush animals?_

He glanced back at Bedivere, who seemed to try to end his existence here and now. Shirou sighed again, brushing through his hair.  
If he wouldn't look so downright pitiable, and if Shirou didn't know the man firsthand and thought of him as a friend, then this would be so much easier.

Alas, not only did he know that Bedivere never would have done something like this, he also knew that whatever lines there were between Saber and the knight were thin to begin with, so this whole situation didn't upset him as grandly as it should.

Which was upsetting in its own right.

Trying desperately to distract himself from thinking about last night, Shirou addressed the first thing that he noticed.

"…where's your arm?"

Bedivere glanced down and an annoyed snort could be heard. He cast a glance around the room and back at his missing limb.

"…would you mind helping me?" it was a murmur, and he blushed while asking, but Shirou obliged.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice eerie like Rin mocked him of his helpful nature. He squashed it, trying not to think of the incredulity that this situation was.

Ten minutes into the search, Shirou was getting frustrated by the silence.

"All right; this is obviously not working. At all."

Bedivere grumbled along, discreetly folding the clothes he was looking through.

They had found their own a few minutes after rummaging around, but there was no sign of the prosthetic.

Sitting onto the edge of the neatly-done bed, Shirou tried to think.

"When was the last time you saw the arm?"

"I think it was after… uh," the knight suddenly blushed, but glanced at the bed, "…"

Shirou followed his gaze. "Oh."

Sighing unevenly, he crouched down and took out the mattress.

Knight and archer glanced at a piece of magical alloy.

They glanced at each other. "…what in the world happened that it _broke_?"

Bedivere would like to know it as well, but kept silent.

"Right." Mind made up, Shirou scooped the pieces up and folded them into his jacket. Bedivere looked surprised.

"…you are going to repair it?"

"Hm? Yeah, give me a day or two, though."

An uncomfortable silence followed.

"How about we head to the kitchen? Da Vinci is usually there at this time; maybe she could help?"

It was a forceful suggestion, but Shirou complied. They locked the door behind them, walking in silence half a step behind each other.

A few minutes later, they were at the door.

And froze. Artoria was arguing, by the sound of it, with Merlin.

 _"For an individual to act upon this, one's feelings have to be aligned as well. You could say that it helps people act on their innermost desires…"_

Shirou glanced at the knight. Well, that would explain some things.

Bedivere gulped. "…I think I'll be taking a shower." Yeah, Shirou thought so too. "Uh-um, have a nice day?"

He hurried off and Shirou sighed again. That would indeed explain some things, but it opened some more questions as well. There was a silence in the kitchen, and he thought it best to leave as well, before Saber saw him. Giving all of them time to cool off and to regain their memories was the smartest idea.

Hopefully.

* * *

The water pooled around the knight, steam rising and fogging the mirrors.

Bedivere heaved a sigh.

The memory still wasn't there, but at this point he could consider himself lucky if either Shirou or his Liege would look at him.

To think…

He shook his head; the more he thought about what happened, the more flashes he experienced, and he was in no mood to turn the shower cold another time.

Still, how did it end up like this?

…it seemed he was no better than his counterpart from the last Singularity in that regard, once again harming the King with his selfishness.

Even though that was the last thing on his mind.

The stream of water stopped, and Bedivere sighed one last time, before he stepped into the cool bathroom, looking around for his towel.

The worst part of these flashbacks were the simple feelings of sheer bliss that seemed to accompany them; and Bedivere had to wonder if he was lying to himself, but was too afraid to ask.

It didn't matter, in the end- he would have to apologize to both Shirou and his King, and hope that things would turn back to how they were, before. Or at least, similar enough.

* * *

In another shower across Chaldea, a certain King of Knights wondered if it was possible for a dead soul to die.

Her head rested against the cool tiles, but Artoria had not yet found their effect to be as calming as desired.

"Innermost desires… damn you, Merlin…"

Even her anger had left her, only leaving behind a feeling of despair.

How in the world did that Magus manage to screw over her life like this, again?

But even as she thought that, Artoria knew that this time, last night, was entirely her (their) fault.

She slid down the wall, sitting under the stream of water, legs hugged to her chest and head resting on her knees, eyes clouded.

Only thinking about it brought the heat back, and she felt ashamed of even replaying those forbidden memories - those little bits that have been flashing before her mind's eye - once.

Even more ashamed did she feel about the fact that she clearly enjoyed last night; that she enjoyed falling asleep next to both Shirou and Bedivere, cocooned safely between both men.

How …natural it felt.

With a hiss, the water turned cold, and Artoria brought back her hand around her knees, ignoring the goosebumps across her skin as it hit her.

How could she look Shirou into the eyes after she left him and Bedivere in her bed earlier? She simply ran away, leaving them as they were, unable to act upon the circumstances as would have been obvious.

How could she, when she saw the latter's expression? Or when her mind had shown her those images, those _feelings_ -?

The water turned freezing.

* * *

Merlin was anxious.

Artoria had been avoiding all of them like the plague, going off with some Servants into a smaller time-distortion.

Shirou was (surprisingly) fixing Bedivere's arm, keeping to himself in the workshop, with only da Vinci occasionally visiting with some spare parts.

And Bedivere was an emotional mess, carefully hidden underneath a trist smile as he grouped together with this version of Tristan and Romani.

It really was quite bad—

Someone sat down next to him.

"…what in the world happened today? Saber's off doing heroics, her Master is a hermit and the puppy-knight is looking like a, well, kicked puppy."

Caster-Medea raised an eyebrow, and Merlin sighed audibly.

Curse that Rider for spreading word that something happened.  
Still, Merlin found in the woman an interesting person (and fellow wizard/witch), so he humored her.

"…the calming draught that I mixed into their drinks was not a calming draught."

Her eyes widened.

"I might have cut the thin line."

She pursed her lips. "…so you mean…?" Then, her eyes took on a glint.

"Ooohh…"

The other Casters glanced into their direction at the creepy sound, and Dress of Heaven looked at them with a confused frown.

"Is everything all right?"

Medea smiled slightly. "Yes, don't you worry."

With a whisper, she added to Merlin, "We should take the discussion somewhere else."

He raised his eyebrow. Since when was this a discussion?

They took it to the small botanic garden (courtesy of mostly Medea and a few other flower enthusiast), where the Witch of Betrayal took on a more serious tone.

Merlin found himself explaining the events that led up to Artoria getting stressed enough that he thought it wise to interfere with a potion, and the aftermath this morning.

All through the tale, the female Caster refrained from voicing her thoughts, simply listening.

In the end, she muttered "I see," before promptly pointing a finger at his nose.

"What makes you _think_ that you're entitled to _play around with the emotions of other people like that!"_

And for the second time that day, Merlin found himself explaining his reasons frantically.

"Why would you want to help, anyhow?" He raised his eyebrow.

Medea glanced at him, but her gaze was soft. "…because I remember this useless Master who tried to do everything in his might for his Servant, going as far as throwing himself in harm's way, and I remember another Master who agreed to help another Servant without knowing what was going on, at first. And both pairs falling in love."

She looked at a flower. "And I hope that this first Master-Servant pair proves that miracles can be reached, so that the second one might meet again."

Merlin blinked.

Medea shot him a glare. "And because I happen to loathe people who think they can meddle with another's life."

The incubus nodded sagely.

There was a second of silence, until the Witch tilted her head slightly to the side and put a finger to her chin.

"…why won't they resolve this in a way that leaves everyone happy?"

Merlin snorted. "Because, unless we push them —which could very well worsen the situation, by the way — all three of them are too selfless to consider something like that." Softer he added, whilst glancing at the same flower as Medea did before, "and because our whole legend is wracked with guilt, so what's one more?"

It was bitter and cynical, so the Caster didn't comment on it.

Instead, she left the Wizard alone, willing him to figure out a solution by himself.  
It was not her place to help; but Medea hoped that Saber would find a solution that left all three of them happy.

She had seen enough such tragedies in her life.

* * *

Da Vinci was currently in her workshop. Well, she was actually only helping this time, as Shirou adjusted some small knickknacks in the prosthetic arm.

How strange, that it was nothing more than a phantom limb, instead of Excalibur.

It did not make this Bedivere any less dangerous, though, as the arm came with its own benefits

Still...

"How come you're repairing it?"

The redhead who was not Archer grimaced. "Couldn't have left it like that, now could I?"

Technically, yes, was what the genius thought, but refrained from saying so.

The minutes went by, until Shirou set down the arm with a soft ' _ching_ ', turning to her.

"Alright, what do you want?"

The Renaissance woman frowned, folding her arms. "…we both know what happened yesterday, and yet here you are, fixing the arm. Why?"

Shirou glanced at it, frowning. "Because-" the image of _a gentle smile flashed, along with slitted, hazy eyes,_ "- because…"

He groaned, messing up his hair in exasperation.

Da Vinci listened. And sighed.

"You have every right to be angry, you know? I would too, if my wife was sleeping with my friend."

Shirou glanced at her. "…Saber's not my wife; she's Gwen's husband."

"Same diff-" da Vinci blinked. "Actually, no. Not the same."

A short pause.

"Considering that you defended your not-wife from this wrong accusation, I take it things are more complicated than at first glance? Because I never heard someone defending their special someone with the words ' _she's married to him, actually'._ "

There was a mirthless laugh as Shirou put the screwdriver away. "It's natural, I guess? The sun's warm, plants are green, King Arthur is married to Queen Guinevere, the sky is blue, and so on and so forth. Doesn't make me love her any less, really."

The female Caster nodded. "I see." She leaned over the counter, looking at the arm. "…so, what's going to happen now, between the three of you?"

"You're not letting me leave until I told you?"

The answer was a poignant 'no.'

Sighing once again, he sat down opposite of da Vinci, thinking.

"I…can't really fault Bedivere for what happened?" it was voiced like a question, though, "I mean — I don't really understand this myself. But, uh…"

He glanced at her helplessly, and the brunette sighed. She really wasn't a therapist.

Tapping her finger against the desk, she thought carefully over her next question. "…let's try a different approach: are you attracted to Saber?"

Shirou raised an eyebrow, but complied. "Obviously -you know, the whole waiting forever, searching forever thing?"

The former man nodded. "Good. You love her, obviously. Next question: are you attracted to Bedivere?"

Shirou blinked. "No. That is- no."

Da Vinci blinked owlishly. Well, there went her assumption.  
"…so what you're saying is, despite not harboring anything other than friendship or comradeship or whatever you knights call it, you are conflicted over rightly accusing him of bedding your not-wife?"

She massaged her head. _"Dio mio_ , this is confusing."

Shirou meanwhile contemplated the question. There was truth in it, considering that he didn't skewer Bedivere in the morning, but it really confused him still why. Why would he not harbor negative feelings against what happened?

Another flash happened, this time of the presumed aftermath, _Artoria sighing contently against his skin—_

The sound of low chuckling surprised da Vinci, and she glanced back to the confusing teen.

"I'm really messed up." He gave a crooked smile into her direction, "I think… the only thing I ever wanted was for Saber to be happy. Well, Bedivere shares that sentiment-" it was, after all, over what the two of them bonded over; talks of their Saber, "so, as long as she's happy and content and everything, I'm alright with _-this_."

Because her happiness was first.  
Shirou knew that he wasn't the only one, but that sentiment was what connected Gwen and Lancelot and Bedivere and him; it was the thin line separating all five of them.

It was not something that could be formed into words or sentences, it simply was. It existed.

Because Shirou knew that all of them saw Saber not as the King, but as what was underneath the facade; that they all loved her for being _her_ , not some fairy tale.

Really, this realization made rationalizing what happened surprisingly easier.

How could he fault any of them for loving such a wonderful person?

Da Vinci was surprised.  
"You'd be all right with sharing the King?"

Shirou shook his head. "Not necessary. But I think, if it's someone like Bedivere who I know strives for her well-being and happiness and who would do everything in his might to see her smile… then I can work with that."

He smiled at the end, content with having a plausible and halfway coherent explanation to his feelings about the matter.

A small smile graced da Vinci's lips as she took in his form.  
It seemed that he had somehow resolved this issue.

"Well then," she stood up, and Shirou did the same, "better tell them, or I have the feeling that this'll end in a disaster."

He shot her a plain look. "Gee, thanks."

* * *

Tristan eyed Bedivere carefully.  
This might not be the Bedivere he knew, might not be the one he encountered in the Singularity, but this was still his friend.

And what the doctor said about the discussion in the morning was… interesting, to say the least.

"…are you all right?"

The pale-blonde knight shuddered a 'kill me now'.

Tristan flinched, glanced over to Dr. Roman — who was rearranging his medicine in the medical room — and back to Bedivere. "It was not your fault; heaven knows what love potions do to one's mind."

He would know, after all.

The doctor choose to add his own two cents. "I agree, it's neither yours or anyone elses fault, except the potions."

Dull grey eyes glared at them. "…"

Tristan sighed.

"Bedivere-"

"Don't 'Bedivere' me, Tristan. I'm very sure that _you_ of all people know what I'm talking about."

The Archer did. To some extent. He closed his eyes.

"The Bedivere I know did everything in his might to please the King, no matter the difficulty. All he ever wanted was -more than all of the other knights- to see hi- _her_ smile. In the end, he was unable to let go of the King, thus resulting in our Singularity. All he ever did was out of devotion." Golden eyes met off-grey ones, "Do you know what I think? What I have deduced, while observing not only you but all of Chaldea?"

Both the knight and Dr. Roman shook their heads.

"That you, Bedivere, love the King." Bedivere blushed and was about to retort, but Dr. Roman interrupted him, surprisingly. "I think what he says has merit. I observed it myself, the interactions between some of the Servants. Ones like Nero who shout their love into the world, but who have so many different interpretations and meanings of the word that it's impossible to list all of them. I think-" here, he scrunched his nose, "that, getting back to the last Singularity, the Lion King also loves all of the Knights."

"Of course." It was Bedivere this time, not Tristan, and the other two listened, caught up in the apparent passion. "Be it either the Lion King, Lancer Alter, Lily or Alter. Or my Liege; all of them cherish the Knights and the Queen, the people and the country. The ones who said the King had no emotion were fools. She has so much love to give that-"

His voice broke, as he caught glimpses of _blonde and green—_

Bedivere groaned. "I am terrible."

Tristan blinked. They had made progress, so what happened?

A diplomatic approach was needed. "You know," _it probably was a terrible idea,_ "I always figured that you'd proclaim your undying loyalty and dedication to the King, and that she'd turn to you like Guinevere did to Lancelot. I mean-" Tristan racked his brain, Dr. Roman sporting a look that said 'what are you doing?', "Your Guinevere, is she close to the King, still? You said that you all are from an Avalon in which we put our differences and anger and guilt aside, so I was wondering."

"While I don't see how that is supposed to help me in my predicament, I'll humor you."

Very clearly, he found nothing humorous in it. "Gwen loves Lancelot, but she loves Artoria, still." An air of calmness washed over him, thinking about home, "I dare say that their relationship has only grown closer as both King and Queen and Husband and Wife."

If Dr. Roman understood the implications, or if he did not, Tristan didn't know, but he knew that he had something akin to a solution. Now only to let Bedivere accept it.

Then at least some of his own guilt would be diminished.

* * *

It was an eventful hunting trip into the distortion and it was already night when Artoria and the others came back.

She successfully evaded her problem until then.

Now she was a few steps away from fleeing like a coward — which was something she most definitely wasn't. So she took a shaky breath and knocked on the door to Shirou's room, who ironically was the easier to figure but the more complex to fully understand.

She waited for a few seconds, her mind made up halfway to simply _leave—_

The door opened and her Dear Heart stood before her, a small smile on his face.

She knew that smile; it was his self-depreciating smile, and she was instantly worried.

Stepping inside his room, Artoria gulped.

"Shirou?"

He patted the bed, signaling her to sit down, and she obliged. Smoothing her dress, she glanced at him as he took a short moment to compose himself.

"Do you love me?"

Her eyes widened. "Of course! You know that, Shirou; I-" _did she not wait an eternity for him? Did he not search an eternity for her?_

In that instant, Artoria feared for the worst.

However, before she could worry over what ifs, he kissed her gently, cupping her cheeks. His eyes were shining with mirth, and she felt a weight lift off her.

"I know that, silly." He leaned back, "Sorry about asking like that, but, well; this is important, so bear with it and answer truthfully."

She nodded, her relief waning. So much for being off the hook.

Shirou's hand sought her own, and he begun to circle his thumb over her palm in a soothing motion, as if to reassure her that no matter her answer, what they had wouldn't change.

"You love me, that's a given-" he smirked at her, and she snorted, "so let's continue this: do you love Bedivere?"

"I—what," Artoria blinked at him, but before she could formulate an answer, Shirou continued.

"Let me ask this differently: you love Guinevere, right?"

"Of course." That was a given, and she knew that he knew that. He nodded.

"You love her like a Husband loves a Wife, or a King a Queen."

Artoria nodded.

"But you also love me." She nodded again, "—and Bedivere."

Artoria was about to deny it, but found it in her heart that she couldn't.

Shirou smiled warmly. "You love Bedivere in a similar way that you love Gwen, just as you love me in a different way from those two."

He scratched the back of his neck while she was progressing his words. "I- it sounds stupid, if I word it like that, but it was the closest I could find to the truth of the matter; so what do you say?"

Artoria was silent. What she was about to ask could potentially backfire, but she still had to.

Because what Shirou said made a frightening amount of sense.

"That- that sounds about right, I think," the words left her carefully, "but still; are you not upset about yesterday?"

Because by the heavens above, she had regained all of her memory in its tantalizing graphic detail, and even hours later it left her stunned.

Shirou's hand stilled, only to resume it's motion in a different pattern, before he answered. "…not as upset as I should be. I mean, I know that you care about Bedivere, I know that you love him. But more importantly, I know that he would never do something to harm you, and I know that you two were a line away from…" _being as close as last night._ Shirou left it unsaid that they had an intimacy he was surprised about, at first, until he grew used to it. It was simply how things were.

Artoria listened. "I… see."  
In the end, the invisible line between them was gone, and going back to how things were was impossible. It was why she had been so angry with Merlin, initially.

Shirou bumped their shoulders together, and not for the first time, the female King of Knights was reflecting on how fortunate she was that Shirou seemed to understand all of these invisible ties and lines of being and not-being.

Though, how things would proceed was up to his decision. Artoria was not about to loose the person whom she had given all of her heart to. If he decided against, she and Bedivere had to somehow manage and pretend that the line was back.

"Hah, never thought I'd be saying something like this," it was more a mutter than a sentence, and Artoria found her ears straining to hear it, before Shirou continued.

"…what I'm saying is, …go for it."

Artoria blinked, shocked. "Shirou?"

His resulting smile was slightly crooked. "I mean; who am I to tell you who to love? As long as you're happy, I'm good, and I'm sure Bedivere feels same. I know that you love me, so it's not like I'm going to be jealous. But-" and Artoria could only gape at him, "don't expect me to fall in love with him. We're good friends, but I'm not interested in anyone else besides you."

Artoria was still staring at Shirou, once again wondering how she deserved such a man as him.

He waited patiently for her answer, knowing that she probably had pushed it out of her mind until she was before his room; as such, this might be quite a surprise to her.

It had taken him the better part of the day to figure it out.

Shirou was rewarded with a dazzling smile.

* * *

If you were to ask Merlin what he had done the day, you wouldn't expect him to answer "cleaning up my mess."

Well, it might not be the best description, but it was quite near.

He had tried to find either of his three unwilling test subjects to a test he didn't even knew he'd done until it was too late, but to no avail. He really wanted to apologize for the trouble, he really did. _But._

Well, Artoria came back and went to Shirou's room, so they seemed to talk it out. They were also in it for some time, without any furniture crashing, so it seemed to go quite well.

During the magus' silent brooding, da Vinci joined him. "I think it'll turn out all right."

Merlin glanced at her, still keeping an eye on the door to Shirou's room, in case of flying furniture. "Really?"

She nodded. "Yes, so move your sorry behind before they notice our presence. Off we go to the kitchen."

In the kitchen, Tristan and Medea were waiting for them, both with a cup of tea.

Merlin looked surprised as Dr. Romani entered as well, with a cup of coffee.

"…I take it you lot has been playing counselor for the day?"

Da Vinci shrugged. "Kind of; more like pushing into the right direction."

Merlin nodded. "And how's it looking?"

Tristan smirked slightly, eyes partly closed, "I believe it might end up alright. Or at least favorable."

With a groan, Merlin all but fell into one of the chairs. "That's good, Gwen would have had my head had this not been resolved until we got back to Avalon."

Romani nodded. "We sent Bedivere their way, telling him Shirou was done with his prosthetic; he should enter in a few minutes."

Da Vinci picked up. "If everything goes smooth, they'll figure it out, and if not, one of them will probably head into this direction,"

Medea continued, "and if that happens, we're here to help."

The mischievous glint that was absent the whole day returned to Merlin's eyes. "And if they don't come here, it either means that everything stays as it was, or all three of them agreed to a new …arrangement."

He grinned. " _Wonderful_!"

* * *

Bedivere stood awkwardly in front of the door, contemplating if he should simply leave or not.

I'm the end, he heaved a sigh and knocked.

There was a silent scuffle on the other side, and the door slid open, revealing a confused looking Shirou.

Bedivere muttered something about da Vinci saying the arm was done, and confusion melted into realization, the redhead stepping aside.

Then he saw her sitting on the bed with a beautiful smile, and something inside him _churned_ and _twisted_ , and Bedivere was ready to leave them be, not wishing to interrupt their moment, because they obviously made up.

Before he even completed that thought, her voice echoed in the room. "Stay."

So he did. Glancing uneasily between them, he entered the room fully, standing awkwardly in the middle, in front of his Liege and Shirou, who sat on a chair next to the bed.

He wanted to apologize, but how did one go about it?

Artoria smiled softly, chuckling to herself. "Both of you are idiots, you know?"

Still the knight stood, unsure about what to make of the whole situation.

She eyed him, and shot a quick glance to Shirou, who nodded, gaze clear.

"Shirou alreasy told me that you heard the end of Merlin's and my conversation-" Bedivere nodded reluctantly, "-so I will ask you this, and I want you to answer truthfully," her voice softened, "do you love me, Bedivere?"

He considered lying to her for all but a second, Tristan's earlier words flashing through his mind. So instead, he sighed, defeated. "Yes. I do."

 _I could never love anyone like I love you_.

She nodded softly, casting another glance at Shirou, who had a warm smile on his face.

"Do not be ashamed of your feelings, my dear knight."

Suddenly, her hands were on his cheeks, her eyes smiling at him. Bedivere was frozen, his mind jumbled as he processed her words.

Finally, a tear slid down, and he found himself unbelievably relieved. "…I always, only wished... I mean-"

He sunk to the ground, Artoria's hands never leaving their place. It was hard to describe what exactly it was that he felt, or how his feelings turned as such, but there were no words needed as she let him cry.

He felt another hand on his shoulder, and the knight remembered that there was a third person in the room as well.

Before he could say something however, Shirou smiled at him. "Trust me, I know how you feel."

He squeezed the shoulder. "I'm fine with _this_."

This being the whole silent agreement to which Bedivere could not believe they had agreed.

Another sob racked his body, and his Liege wiped the tears away, her forehead pressed against his.

"My stupid, stupid knight," her voice was a murmur, "It is all right being selfish for once."

They stayed like that for most of the night, simply being next to each other. Smiling and laughing and sharing stories, like they always did.

And if Artoria would lean against Bedivere whilst her hand was clasped in Shirou's, it simply was how thing were meant to be.

* * *

A few days later Bedivere was sitting in the kitchen, drinking contently from his tea. There was quite a rush, as a new Singularity appeared, and many of the Servants tagged along with Mashu and the Master.

He opted to sit this one out.

The sound of the automatic doors opening could be heard, but the knight didn't look up as someone sat down next to him, he merely scurried over.

A companionable silence fell over the two occupants of the kitchen.

"How comes that you are not accompanying Shirou and your King? They seemed to be eager venture into the Event."

Bedivere shook his head, smiling. "They are more than capable of taking care of themselves, as you should know. And also-" he glanced at his companion, "-there are other Servants who will want to accompany Shielder and the young Master, and quite a few 'Sabers' are going already."

"I see," the voice was low. "Once again looking out for them, aren't we?"

His smile widened, but he scratched his cheek self-consciously. "Well, I guess that's how I am."

A smile tugged at the other Servant's lips as she took a sip of her tea. "…are you not jealous?"

Bedivere glanced into his cup. "No," he shook his head, "for I know the King loves us. Why should I be jealous? Rather, I am happy that she would extend her love towards me, despite having Shirou."

He glanced up again, smiling softly. "The kind of love Shirou and Lady Artoria share is something beautiful - something that I do not wish to intrude upon. Still, despite that, I do know that her love for me is true as well; it simply differs in some matters. I am fine with it, and I understand it and respect it. Am I not speaking the truth, Sire?"

The Servant of the Lance smiled at Bedivere.

"Indeed; I could have not voiced it better, Sir Bedivere."

* * *

So, instead of writing either the next chapter of Gemstones or Cafe of the Round, I wrote this. It was stuck in my mind for a good week, and I simply had to write it, no matter the craziness of it.

I'm… actually surprisingly proud of it, no matter its status as an obvious crackfic xD

It has a technical canon after the events of Cafe or LoGA, where all of the Knights live happily ever after in Avalon. And some are summoned by Chaldea.

…uh, yeah. Penny for your thoughts? Did it sound like a logical conclusion to their relationship or is it completely random?

I can actually imagine it working out somehow.

Also, I was inspired by the majority of the Arthur/Gwen/Merlin fics on AO3.

I hope you liked it :3


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